The Golden Girl
by tweety-src-clt9
Summary: To me she will always be Hermione Granger. My one that got away. I hate that I am secretly in love with Potter's girl. ONESHOT.


A/N: This fic was inspired by the lyrics '_You know, I feel so dirty when they start talking cute. I wanna tell her that I love her, but the point is probably moot'_, from the song, Jessie's Girl by Rick Springfield. I claim no ownership of it, I only used it as inspiration.

Written for the Harmony & Co Facebook Group's Lyric Llama Challenge.

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"_You know, I feel so dirty when they start talking cute. I wanna tell her that I love her, but the point is probably moot."_

_Jessie's Girl by Rick Springfield_

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**THE GOLDEN GIRL**

By: tweety-src-clt9

She walks the halls of the Ministry of Magic in her tight pencil skirts and pointed shoes reminding us all of her muggle roots. I hate how she struts her stuff and reminds everyone else every single day that she controls the reins. I hate that even as she is celebrating her fortieth birthday soon, she still maintains her perfect curvy figure. Great... Speaking of her birthday, I have to fucking think of a gift and how I could anonymously give it to her. I hate keeping this secret. This secret that has plagued me ever since Hogwarts...

I fucking hate Hermione Jean Granger.

Gryffindor princess.

Perfect prefect.

Brightest Witch of The Age.

The Wizarding World's Golden Girl.

I fucking hate that after all this time, I am still secretly in love with her.

I hate the fact that to me, she will always be a Granger. Because I could never accept the fact that she bloody married Harry Potter.

The first time I saw her she was a bushy-haired scrawny little thing with chocolate brown eyes that amazed me since I laid eyes on them. The color of molten chocolate is the complete opposite of my stormy gray orbs. She walked into my compartment looking for squib Longbottom's toad. I was about to introduce myself when she started blabbering about being muggleborn. As the heir of the House of Malfoy, there was nothing left to do. I had to give her a taste of the signature aristocratic Malfoy sneer. I was raised to believe that mudbloods like her are a complete waste of space. If only I was brave enough to not listen to my father, maybe… just maybe… we could have been… something. Anything...

Every single day, she proves to all the pureblood bigots just how brilliant she is. She is a living proof of how wrong the pureblood ideology really is! And I hate her for it. She is a walking contradiction of the very foundation of my prestigious family's principles. But my eyes could not look away. I am drawn to her like moth to a flame…

And then she did the most annoying thing of all! She followed Potter and his idiot sidekick Weasel all over the bloody castle. Potter who refused my offer of friendship. Saint Potter, the fucking "Boy-Who-Lived", who is the perfect poster boy for all that is good and heroic. Perfect Potter who in her beautiful brown eyes could do no wrong.

My Hogwarts years were spent antagonizing the Gryffindor trio. Everyone thought I did that to get into Potter's nerves. Nobody knew that I enjoyed walking up to them because of her. The way her eyes would light up in cold fury, her hair rippling with her magic, and her cheeks flushing like a blooming rose…

I would never understand why someone so smart could tolerate the idiosyncrasies of Potter and his pet Weasel. If she ended up with Viktor Krum, at least he is a pureblood. More importantly, the Bulgarian is the second wizard to notice the fact that she is a girl. Second only to me… So why did she go ahead and marry Potter, I really do not know...

Here she comes again. All prim and proper and absolutely beautiful.

She should have been mine.

Hermione Malfoy sounds a million times better than Hermione Potter.

I would have given her the world.

Adorn her with jewels.

Give her all the books she could possibly want.

But no… because no one could ever hold a candle to Golden Boy Harry Potter in her eyes.

I guess I could call it a little victory that she did not marry that stupid Weasel. Because if she married that loser, I would have hanged myself. Someone so brilliant should never end up with someone so pitiful and simple minded. Besides, the Weasel is as poor as a rat. He could not offer her anything worthy of a princess like her at all.

I hate the fact that even the Weasel holds a little part of her heart – as her best friend. What does that red head ginger have on me anyway?

Right… Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger form the bloody Golden Trio!

How in the world did Potter and Weasel get so lucky to have someone like her in their lives?

Okay… so Potter killed the Dark Lord. He is brave and a great hero. At least I have to admit that Saint Potter deserves my chocolate-eyed goddess in a way.

But Weasel? What would they even talk about? He only has food in his thick head. And she was so brilliant and her mind is filled of so many exciting things. She is the bloody Minister of Magic for Merlin's sake! So why? Why did she suffer that Weasel's useless nonsense comments? If only she gave me five minutes of her day, we could talk about so many interesting things…

I hate how she is always in control. So powerful and so dominant that every single member of the Wizengamot shuts up with just one stern glare from her. But all that strong façade crumbles as soon as her beloved husband walks in…

"Harry!", I hate hearing the joy in her voice. The love I could detect from her crystal-clear voice makes me want to hurl.

"Hi, love! These are for you", the man I hated the most whispers into her ear making her giggle. He hands her a bouquet of lilies.

"You have a cut on your lip. What happened?", the worry in her voice is like a punch to my gut. Why did she have to love him so much? Why does she look at him like he was the center of her universe?

"It's nothing", Potter muttered.

"There. All better", she lovingly pecked her husband's lips.

"Your kisses always make me feel better", her husband wraps an arm around her waist. He was about to pull her closer when I decided to interrupt the oh so sweet moment by clearing my throat.

"This is the ministry. Not a hotel. How scandalous", I said in a cold voice complemented by my signature sneer.

"What are you doing here Malfoy?", Potter replied with a glare.

"I was just walking along and I passed by. Not like I dream about seeing you, Potter", my voice arrogant. It was so hard to see her knowing she would never be mine. But to see them together? It was an entirely hellish level of excruciating pain.

"Harry, let's just go", she holds his hand and pulls her husband away.

"See you around, Granger", I look into her chocolate brown eyes.

"Good day, Malfoy", she replied, dragging her husband away.

"I hate that git", Saint Potter said.

"Harry, just cool it. If you won't, I will not keep my promise", she threatened.

"What promise?", the idiot asked. She leaned in closer, caressing her husband's arm. Most likely to whisper promises of passionate lovemaking in their bed.

"Okay, I'll behave", the luckiest bastard in the wizarding world grinned. Oh, how I wish I could smack his face!

"I don't know why you're not over your childhood issues with Malfoy", her voice laced with amusement.

"Oh, I'm over it. I just find it so annoying that he's never called you Potter. Bloody hell, love! You've been a Potter for seventeen years. I don't know if he's just a thick-minded idiot or he fancies you", Potter said grumpily. Ah, so Potter is not that clueless after all.

"I love you Harry James. No one else. But you", the sincerity in her voice is like a dagger sent straight into my heart.

"I love you Mrs. Potter. Let's go home. I intend for you to keep your promise", the heat in Potter's eyes as he all but dragged his giggling wife to the floo reminds me of all that I have lost.

If only there is no stupid pureblood supremacy…

Hermione Granger would have been my friend.

She would have been in Slytherin with me.

I would give her the world.

I would have her in my bed as my Mrs. Malfoy.

But no! Because of my father, the Dark Lord, and my lack of courage, I have to see the woman I love be with my nemesis every single workday. Why couldn't it be Saturday and Sunday every day? That way, I would never get to see her. With him. With his slimy hands wrapped all over what should have been mine.

As the Golden Couple disappear into the green flames, I whisper my deepest secret…

"I love you Hermione Granger."

I turn away, heading for the office of a bigoted Wizengamot Member. I have to bribe him since he is a hindrance to my Hermione's new house-elf law. I would always love her from afar and she will never know.

I fucking hate that I'm in love with Potter's girl.


End file.
